


Uncle T

by BartyMellvue



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Gen, Only rated M because the game is and it's just like that tonally, Scene Rewrite, it wasn't on purpose though, momentary discussion of gore warning, okay so the michael trevor jumped out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:07:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22342291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BartyMellvue/pseuds/BartyMellvue
Summary: "Oh yeah? Well, that little girl sat on my lap when she was two years old, and I swore to /God/ that I would rip the fuckin' /skin/ off anyone who fuckin' /wronged/ her!"After the mission Fresh Meat, Franklin's taking Michael home, all while he contemplates how his daughter may never forgive him when she finds out his friendship with Trevor is crumbling.
Relationships: Michael De Santa & Trevor Philips, Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	Uncle T

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY the beginning & ending of this is SUUUUPER derivative and quotes more of the mission dialog than i would like BUT, i HAD to get this out quick okay (to be the 420th trikey fic HMDGDFD) i also have another like... way more original thing coming up too so stay tuned for that okay here it is

“Fuck me, man! What a scene that was!” And what a _mess—_ still bleeding in the now partially wrecked sports car they’d picked up in the back lot of that slaughterhouse, and for the second time in a few short weeks, Michael was looking like John McClane all over again, but the Triad letting the blood rush to his head and insisting that his former crime partner was his gay lover was a lot less glamorous than breaking out of that IAA guarded mortuary. Franklin’s breath sort of escaped him in exasperation, his eyes still unable to leave his rear view mirrors for more than a few seconds at a time, still unsure of if they’d lost them.

“If that's what you'd call it, man. Shit!” 

“Yeah… Whew! Back there on that meat hook, I thought it was over.”

“When the dude had the knife on me, man, I thought the same thing.” Frank’s gaze moved to Mike, just for a short moment as he let out a stifled laugh. “Shit, I kinda thought you were over when you landed flat on your back like that. I know you capable ‘n everything, but you a little old to be doing that, dog.”

_“Fuck off,”_ Mike’s instinctive response as soon as the O-word had entered the conversation, but the younger man’s continued laughter had gotten to him, unable to hide his smile from him, though he was too weak, his entire head pounding keeping him from letting out anything more than a titter. “I mean, yeah, I’m feeling it. But I’ve had worse… _God...”_ He rubbed his face, finding fresh blood on his palms, unable to do anything right now. He would find a way to cope with the physical scars from this ordeal at some other point. “Frank… Thank you, bro. You didn't have to.”

“Yeah, bro, of course I did!” He says, his eyebrows furrowing at Mike’s apparent low value of his life to consider saving him like this any less than an obligation, _a given._ “If this kinda thing means anything, man, the second I knew—”

“Hey, how’d ya even find me?” He’d asked, finally giving himself a moment to lean back into his seat, though he wouldn't feel completely safe until they were back in the Hills. They’d practically driven up into the mountains just to make sure they’d lost them before they even thought about heading for Mike’s place.

“Lester tracked your cell signal, led me right to you.”

“Ah, Lester…” _He ought to get around to thanking him as well._ “But how'd you even know I got snatched up?” And to that, Frank grimaced, having to bring up the source, the reason for Michael's emotional tourment, the person that had got him into that _physical_ torment back there.

“Uh, Trevor told me… Kinda. I asked him what he knew about you disappearing in North Yankton—”

“—Yeah, of course." And as expected, his mood drops. "I bet he wasn’t that forthcoming, was he?” And neither did he come over to help in the act of retrieving him, but he’d unfortunately expected that, with the way things were left off between the two of them.

“Well, he told me in the end. I guess he felt bad about it—”

_Yeah, right,_ Mike thought, and he'd made the disdain rather clear in his voice, _“Not enough to come get me.”_ Well. Franklin wasn't gonna try touching that just yet. Even with his concern over his two… _Mentors’_ tumultuous relationship, he wasn't going to, when the guy was still making stains in this car with his open wounds.

“Man, besides that, how’d they pinch you anyways?” But of course, that was a mistake in itself, as M found himself easily getting riled up again.

“Ah, _shit—_ we’re up there and Trevor freaks the fuck out, he was about to kill me! And then in the middle of that these— these Triad guys show up, he splits, but I’m still back there, with the _one fucking pistol_ and they’ve got at least twenty assholes with their _big fuckin’ vans,_ their _big fuckin’ guns,_ and after all that I somehow get away, I get back to my car— my breaks are fuckin’ cut! _By him, I assume—”_

“For real?”

“Too real. And they get me, stuff me in a box, stuff that box in a van, the van onto some plane, back to Los Santos—”

_“And then I got you.”_

“And then you got me. And I thank you for it. But God, I can barely feel my fuckin’ legs, Frank, and Trevor doesn't give a _shit_ about me!" He exclaims, his foot making a frustrated kick beneath the dash, _wishing he were kicking him instead._ "He left me to die, and then he left me to die a _second_ time! _You_ had to be the one get me out.”

“Fuckin’— I get it, man, take it easy right now until we get you back, alright? _Shit!”_ Franklin leant forward, looking around, and then looking back before he made a U-turn, finally making their way back to the city. “While you were out, by the way, shit’s been happening with Devin.”

“What about Weston?” His head turns, his tone a bit suspecting. _If there were more things going wrong these past few days..._

“We delivered the last of the cars, right? Only he ain't paid us yet. Said he’s gonna _invest_ the fuckin’ money.”

“Well, he’s a clever guy, you know, that might not be such a bad idea.” But Frank's face twisted in disgust, one of hit hands hitting the steering wheel,

_“Shit!_ Come on, Mike, you fuckin’ serious? We both got money now but did that shit turn your brain to mud with that rich bullshit? _Clever guy..._ ” Of course that wasn't going to be good enough for him, _his word,_ and honestly he couldn't blame him.

“Okay, okay, look, Franklin, you're gonna get your money, alright? And if you're lucky, some interest! But I got this other deal with him at the film studio, we just gotta wait for that to play out before I got any leverage, alright? I'll sort it out."

“Are you forreal?”

“Frank, I’ve had my feet chained to a meat hook for the past few hours. Just give me some time, and I’ll figure it out. I promise.”

“Yeah. _Whatever.”_

The two of them exuded a communal sigh, as if they’d been in sync like this for years after a friendship of only two months had transpired between them. But Franklin’s grip on the wheel sort of tightened, swearing to himself under his breath, cursing himself for not letting things sit like this. He didn't want to. He couldn't, not after everybody else in his life getting on his case for letting them take a backseat to everything that he was doing with Michael.

“Man… Trevor’s in a bad way. Like, I know he’s always in a bad way,” and before he could interrupt, momentarily turning his head, “And that I _know you fuckin’ hate his ass right now,_ and you _don't wanna hear it,_ but whatever the hell you did got him upset. He’s not right.” Michael really _did_ not want to hear this from him, being told how T’s apparently not been doing well after he decided to leave him at the Triad’s mercy. But in Mike’s mind, not thinking about Brad. Poor fucking him. 

“Really? Any different than he's been since you've known him?”

“Yes! And I don't want you trying to kill each other no more after this. I don't like this! I’m telling you, man, it don't feel right! Motherfucker has your name tattooed on him for the rest of his life, I don't know what the hell you did to make him wanna clap you like that in the midwest after you— after you _went after him._ Fuckin’... Tom Hanks! Tom Hanks’s kid! I don't know!” What Frank was doing was trying _really hard_ to make that connection to _Sleepless In Seattle,_ a movie that had been a mainstay on TV that according to his mother was a masterpiece— but of course, he couldn't piece together a joke together out of something he couldn't really remember. And there really wasn't a way to tell if it landed or not, the way he was right now.

Mike’s elbow rested on the window, his face burying into his hand as he had to sit here, listening to this twenty something rag on him about lasting friendships, the image of Trevor’s tattoo that he stared at upon no end when they were forced to bunk together a while back, permanently etched in his mind— and it may have been the one thing that had finally made his guilt over the whole thing surface at all.

“I get it. I get it, alright? You're not happy, he’s not happy… Even if my kids ever come back, they're probably never gonna wanna talk to me again. Their opinion of him is higher than mine. Meth and all.”

“Shit, man, the fuck you do to your kids for that to be the case?” 

“Not me, him.”

_“Him?”_

“Yeah, him.” He exhales, looking out the passenger window, as if in some sort of shape after that relentless tongue lashing, which he still believed he didn't quite deserve, even if Frank was… _Right_ … “We met when we were twenty—” 

“Fuck! Trevor talked about that, I know… That old guy, the fuckin… What was it? In his eye?” Michael was puzzled, and if he were going to be honest, he's felt a little something in his chest, the way you always do whenever you hear back that people have been talking about you while you weren't around to hear it, _fondly..._ Well, he at least hoped it was fond. But it probably wasn't.

“A— A flare," He says, still taken aback by the story apparently being shared with him. "A flare from a flare gun—”

_“—Still going off!”_ There really was something about Frank's weird _jubilation_ over just how sickening, but _cinematic_ that story was, and Michael could feel himself being pulled into those emotions all over again.

“—Still going off, _frying his flesh,_ the fucking nastiest shit I’d ever seen in my goddamn life, he—" He swallows, making a little glance away, as to hide the smile that couldn't help but surface. _"—he told you that?”_

“Yeah, man, last night. _Well,_ not to me, specifically. We was driving _hours_ across the damn city with the cars, he was driving the truck, me, and my boy Lamar too." _Still haven't met him._ "Really, I was fadin’ in and out, I was tryna get some shuteye an' shit but he talked about it. Bein’ _bonded for life_ or whatever." He could feel the weight of Trevor's words even as he'd been repeating them, relaying it back to his partner for prosperity. "For somebody who hates you, he couldn't stop talkin' about your bitch ass. _Love at first sight,"_ He says, halfway coming out as a jeer. The immediate reaction that it invoked in Michael was telling, though.

_“He didn't say that,"_ His voice went into a slightly lower register, and there was suddenly more worry in his gut than he had before about just how much Trevor was letting on, and the bubbling resentment over what had just taken place was showing through.

“No, Lamar did, _but you know, he didn't really argue—”_

“Come on, I already got that shit from the triad, calling me his lover, calling me his boyfriend! I'm tired of it!” Michael’s voice had gone up a register in pitch, _real_ set off about that in particular, but Frank busted out laughing _real_ loud, his head tilting back.

“Shit! Mike, you serious? That's fuckin’ crazy—” With his amusement, the way he was taking this, Michael decided was definitely going to omit the fact that they'd already had other people think the same. “—alright, alright, come on, man, your kids!”

“My kids?”

“Yeah, what you were sayin’ with them likin’ T more than you after this, go on,” He shook his head at Franklin’s interest, _it sure was great, having it be funny to him_ , while in the meantime he was still feeling the light burning of his face that wouldn't be subsiding any time soon, folding his arms.

“What I was saying was that we were only twenty when we met. We knew each other for— for almost twenty _more_ years before I bailed. For my family. Amanda’s _still_ not happy with me, for letting him be the best man at our wedding and I know she’ll never be, now." Their family photos, their memories, permanently stained with Trevor as a mainstay.

_“Damn…”_

“Yeah. And then the kids. Man, he… He _loved_ my fuckin’ kids, Frank, dropped everything when Trace was born, to come see her. Jimmy too. We were— we were _best friends._ ” Michael’s eyes fluttered, getting another feeling in that apparently shriveled up heart of his, just remembering, and Franklin’s tongue clicked,

 _“...Tracey._ Mike, don't tell me man, was that a fuckin’ namesake for him?” With just how easy his protege of his was able to figure that out, just how obvious it really was in hindsight, his eyes had flashed with _shame,_ and his volume lowered,

“I told Mandy that it _wasn't.”_

_“Mike…”_ Shit, this guy had fucked shit up _bad._ He looked over at him to see him the way he was, looking out the side like that, not able to look at him, all while he was having this _moment,_ being able to express just how there was never going to be a chance to forget Trevor, when he'd been such an integral part of his world for so long. When he'd spoken up again, his voice was wavering.

 _“—He hadn't even held a baby before he held Tracey._ I had to… _Convince_ him, tell him that I _trusted_ him not to drop… My baby, my newborn kid. And you know, he didn't… He didn't let go for a long time.” His throat did that thing where it began to close up, stifling your words, making you choke. “He… Well, he was always just… Around. And he’d—” he made a gesture with his arms,

“He’d _hold her,_ you know? And I think it was him just— how warm his chest was, and she would just be out cold in no time. He loved holding her. She adored him, man, I kinda hated his guts whenever she would just be... The _worst,_ bothered by everyone and everything, no way to put her down, and then as soon as he was there she was an angel in his arms,” His voice was so close to cracking. _Fuck._ And the more he went on, the more it was affecting Franklin, still being young, he'd had no opportunity for any moments like those, but the gravity of it was _real,_ and it was beyond fucked up, hearing just how ward it was for Michael to get these words out without any more emotion coming through, but it was unavoidable.

“You know what I just realized, too? _He probably would have killed me weeks ago._ Just seeing me again for the first time, if it weren't for Tracey. Right in front of the family. I was in the middle of something with Amanda, I was upset with Jimmy about this fuckin’... _Massive_ brick of pot he had in the fridge, and he came in, just raving about how well off we were, how I bailed on him… And asked where Tracey was. Seeing that she wasn't there for this."

_“Fuck—”_ This was too much, _it was too fucking much,_ hearing Michael running through the events with him— he'd wanted to stop him, but he could hardly get a word in.

“I didn't know, _Jimmy knew,_ she was auditioning for _Fame or Shame,_ she was gonna make a fool of herself in front of the whole country, on national television, and Trevor was just— _Let’s go get her!”_ A smile came to Frank’s face, well, _it had come to him a long time ago,_ the thought of that scary motherfucker, and however he looked twenty-something years ago holding a newborn, the mere _concept_ of that man being capable of any human emotion that wasn't raw, unfiltered bloodlust.

“Shit, well, you gotta go get her!”

 _"We did!_ God, and he _strangled_ this fuckin’ clipboard guy! Yelling at him, asking where she was, but he had no idea, trying to ask him with our old name— and he sort of _barreled_ through auditions and…" Michael _stops,_ his hands held out, before they sat on the dashboard and _gripped_ to it. 

"Frank, _she was so happy to see him._ I don’t make her smile like that. I don't know when it was, the last time I made her that happy. Not even when I'm giving her money, She _hugged_ him, went on to do her… _Dance,_ if you could even call it that. I mean, we _stopped_ it. I kind of assaulted the guy.”

“For lookin’ like that, or for everything else?”

 _“Yeah._ A little bit of both, probably. Well, she wasn't too happy about it, she's not one to fuckin' realize my whole fatherly stunts are just me trying to _protect her," that was another can of worms entirely. "—_ but Lazlow, he ran off, we came to get him, chased him all the way into the river until that wimpy electric shit car of his died on him... And Trevor just _laid into him,_ you know? He’s up in his face, just—” Mike wouldn’t give a full-assed attempt into mimicking him, but he could recall his exact words _far_ too easily, and if he could muster the ability to smile anymore, he _would have been,_

“ _—That little girl sat on my lap when she was two years old, and I swore to_ _God_ _that I would rip the fucking skin off of anybody who fucking wronged her—"_

_“Damn, Trevor—!”_

“I know. _I know!_ And he— he got him to take his pants off, danced in his underwear on video for him, shithead fell over and because I let him, he got out of there with his worthless… C-list celebrity life. And we were just… Laughing.”

_How the fuck did you do it without me for nine years? Huh?_

_Michael didn't know._

“Yeah… He loved her. I mean, he and Jimmy were close too. But Tracey especially, as soon as she was starting to get that older sibling complex when he came along, we started shoving her off onto him for a day out every now and then, and he didn't even mind. Can you imagine that? Me? Trusting _Trevor_ with a _kid,_ for _hours at a time?_ And he’d take her to see _movies,_ he treated her like she was _his—_ because she was _mine—”_ Michael held his hands out before he balled them into fists, his fingernails piercing his palms, 

“God, Frank, I— _Frank, I fucked up._ ”

“You most certainly fuckin’ did, man, that's your friend—” _No._ No, Michael still couldnt fucking admit he fucked things up with Trevor, _still._ He was _still_ to fucking full of himself, even having just been on the verge of tears about his best friend holding his firstborn as she slept.

“No, _fuck_ Trevor! He tried _to kill me!_ I'm talking about my _fucking_ _kids!”_ Franklin really thought Mike was getting somewhere, letting him talk himself hoarse about just how gentle that apparent _monster_ had been with his children before they were soured by the money and the Los Santos heat. Frank was just pulling up to his house, looking over and giving him a wide eyed look, filled with contempt for how he just couldn’t look past that shit, _as crazy as it was,_ him trying to kill him— and he hit the brakes hard before he parked right at the gate.

“ **Mike**! I _know_ he did! What I was getting at was that _shit_ you pulled however many years ago affected him, whatever you _just_ did to him to make him _the way he is right now,_ you're in deep shit! I don't know what you gotta do, but you're either gonna kill him, or he’s gonna kill you, and I don’t wanna see that happening! He _apparently_ got over it just enough to be around you like this, why can't you just fuckin’ reconcile that shit the same way? _Fuck!”_

Michael let out the most exhausted, most _frustrated yell_ as he unhooked his seat belt, opening up the car door and slamming it shut, only to lean his head into his crossed arms up on the roof. 

“Man, I’m _sick_ of this shit—” Frank mumbles, getting out on the other side to look at his mentor, out of his mind, the wound on his temple and his sweat-stuck front of his hair staring him in the face, looking miserable as hell. 

“Mike. C’mon, man, _look at me.”_ It evidently took nothing for him to agree, his glassy eyes looking back at him, with all the sadness all of this brought him, which he could never really express to anyone else with words. “Can't you just tell me? What the fuck happened up there?”

It was suddenly like he hadn't just gone through anything just now, his expression going neutral, blank.

“I said. Trevor went crazy. Tried to kill me, got jumped by the Triad.” 

“Man, _before_ all that,” he says, his voice quiet, leaning right into the roof across from him, “I’m talking about the Feds. Trevor. This guy _Brad,_ man.”

_“I know what you meant.”_ The tremor had long left Michael’s voice— but he was filled with regret the moment he saw the disappointment in Franklin’s face, for _knowing_ but apparently _refusing_ to be real with him, after everything he did, _after he’d saved his life like that, when Trevor didn't want to._ He sighed. “Alright— alright, look. I made a judgement call… I didn't know if it was the right one, I did what I thought I had to do.” _By selling the others out, huh, Mike?_ “I had a young family, Franklin, I was running with a crew of crazy motherfuckers who had nothing to lose, I saw an out, a better future for me, for my family, and I _took it.”_

_“Took it?_ Man, you burned every other motherfucker you’ve ever known.”

“It was that, or die.” Frank exhaled through his nostrils, stepping away from the car, making the smallest motion down the sidewalk, to leave— “Frank, I’m not expecting you to understand what I did, but you _will. When you've got ties of your own.”_ Mike stood up from the car, instead moving to lean on the outer wall of his property, staring over at him. “Look, you just… a You wake up one day, and, and… Your legs? They just _give._ And you just can't _run_ anymore.”

Frank’s eyelids shut, taking a further step back, needing a moment of clarity, before he knew what he could say to him, like this, maybe, just _maybe_ he _did_ know, somewhere _deep inside him_ that what he did was _wrong,_ at least to _Trevor…_ Even if it was right for his family. 

“Alright, man. I get it… That's fine. Look, you just watch your back, alright? You talked to me about all that shit, but, if Trevor finds out you're still alive, I don't know what the fuck he gonna do… If you're sayin’ he was that willin’ to kill you. No matter what he was tellin’ us last night about the two of you.” Mike's jaw clenched, _a little bit sick with himself over just how much he'd wanted to ask what else he’d said about him_ , and he watched Franklin starting to walk off.

“Don't worry about Trevor… Hey, you watch _your_ back. Hear me?” It was enough for him to make his body turn back one more time to look at him, his only hope being that the sincerity had gotten to him before whatever this was turned into something for the worse.

“Dog, it ain't me he comin’ for. We straight. It's _you_ , dog. It's _you…_ Now just… Stay in that big empty-ass house. Deal with your—” Frank motioned up to his own forehead, and Mike mirrored him, his fingers meeting his temple with a sting. _“That._ And just… Promise me you'll try to make that shit right. Okay?”

“...Okay. I’ll see you around , Frank.”

_“Yeah.”_

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 4/5/2020: Remastered!!! It used to be 3.5 or 3.6k words or something but now it's over 4k, i didn't mean for the remaster to be this thorough OTL


End file.
